Dying in a a war never stopped wars from happening.

A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.

And if there is anybody out there who is crazy enough to want to become a writer, I'd say go ahead, spit in the eye of the sun, hit those keys, it's the best madness going, the centuries need help, the species cry for light and gamble and laughter. Give it to them. There are enough words for all of us.

People do too much. They say too much.

yes, Wagner and the storm intermix with the wine as nights like this run up my wrists and up into my head and back down into the gut

The centuries are sprinkled with rare magic with divine creatures who help us get past the common and extraordinary ills that beset us

I got lost somehow, began staring up her legs. I was always a leg man. It was the first thing I saw when I was born. But then I was trying to get out. Ever since I have been working in the other direction and with pretty lousy luck.